


Shadows and Sorrows

by ForgottenChesire



Series: Kinktober 2018 [12]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Kinktober 2018, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, magical tentacles, vine sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 03:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: The hand pulls back and she takes a few steps away from him. The chains rattle again as he tries to follow her. He can’t. He can’t. So he settles with watching her as she lets her grey cape fall to the floor. As her flowing dress follows it, leaving her in just the white like starlight hair that cascades down. He wants to touch it with his hands. See if it’s as soft as it looks. Want to hold her in his arms.She raises an eyebrow at him. Waiting. He looks back at Yavanna and Aulë. He is Melkor. Morgoth. Brought about dragons and evil to the world. And yet… they can bring about the end of the one thing Melkor loves. Bring Eru himself down here to make sure Nienna can never come back.“Shadow.”Two thick tentacles of his, made of congealed dark magic and the hate he once felt for his brother, slowly make their way out of the cage. They glow a bright purple and when they scrape the bars of the cage it hurts. Burns. Sizzles. Steel bars glowing gold. Leaves pits in the tentacles that twist and turn. That creates a chair for Nienna to sit in. A throne for the one who could so easily become a dark queen.





	Shadows and Sorrows

**Author's Note:**

> Day 14 Tentacles

Melkor shifts under the gaze of the other two Valar that have entered his antechamber with the one he cares about. Aulë the Smith. The one he envied for the longest time. The one who created something and fixed them instead of broke them. And beside Aulë is his wife. Nienna approaches the bars a soft look on her grey face. Her hands pass through the bars that remain a cool steel. Pale grey and oh so soft when he gets down onto his knees so that the hand doesn’t have to stretch too far to touch his face. He can’t get too close. The chains Aulë made to hold him do their job. He can’t move. But he tries and the rattle. Nienna gives him a sad smile.

 

“Hello love,” she says sweetly.

 

“Hello sweet sorrow,” he responds kissing the hand. Nienna pats his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheek.

 

“Don’t mind them my Shadow. Just trust me.”

 

“Always.”

 

The hand pulls back and she takes a few steps away from him. The chains rattle again as he tries to follow her. He can’t. He  _ can’t _ . So he settles with watching her as she lets her grey cape fall to the floor. As her flowing dress follows it, leaving her in just the white like starlight hair that cascades down. He wants to touch it with his hands. See if it’s as soft as it looks. Want to hold her in his arms.

 

She raises an eyebrow at him. Waiting. He looks back at Yavanna and Aulë. He is Melkor. Morgoth. Brought about dragons and evil to the world. And yet… they can bring about the end of the one thing Melkor loves. Bring Eru himself down here to make sure Nienna can never come back.

 

“Shadow.”

 

Two thick tentacles of his, made of congealed dark magic and the hate he once felt for his brother, slowly make their way out of the cage. They glow a bright purple and when they scrape the bars of the cage it hurts. Burns. Sizzles. Steel bars glowing gold. Leaves pits in the tentacles that twist and turn. That creates a chair for Nienna to sit in. A throne for the one who could so easily become a dark queen.

 

“Remember our rules.”

 

“No coming until you say I can.”

 

She sits so daintily. It’s a warmth he’s missed. A warmth that is denied to him in many ways. He’s naked in here, not allowed even small clothes to keep his dignity should anyone stumble down here. Nienna’s hands stroke the thick tentacles with feather light touches. Rubs them like you would your arms on a winter’s day. It sends shivers down his spine. Parts of him standing at attention. Already throbbing. Her nails drag along the underside of one tentacle, tickling it, while the other gets treated to small teasing pinches.

 

Back arching he moans. Touch. Sweet glorious touch, even as muted as it is through the tentacles, is a blessing. Though he needs not to breathe his chest moves in what mortals call pants. Harsh. Quick. He can’t get enough of his Sorrow’s touch.

 

“I want more,” she whispers. This time there is no hesitation. Another tentacle slips out, not as thick as the other two but still good sized. It winds up her leg like a snake coming to rest on her shoulder.

 

Nienna grabs it. Gentle. Always gentle. Hand surrounds it as she tugs, pulls, massages it. Gets it to writhe, gets him to writhe. He’s so hard. Dripping. Aching but she hasn’t said he could come. Hasn’t looked at him, instead, she's paying special attention to the tentacle in her hand. Then she looks him in the eyes, brings it up to her mouth and begins to suck on it. He’s not the only one to let out a gasp. Hesitantly he chances a look at the others in the room. There is a purple flush to Yavanna’s face, she has one hand on Aulë but her hands are on Nienna. The color of her cheeks matches the flowers blooming in her hair and the vines sprouting from at her feet. Vines that wrap around a naked Aulë. Binding him as he rests on his knees and arms. Mouth open as he rocks back and forth. 

 

“Shadow, look at me.”

 

He drags his eyes away from the scene, understanding why Nienna brought them here. Once his eyes are back on her Nienna nips the tip of the tentacle. Hot, stinging pain travels up and through it to him. He whines.

 

“Not yet,” she admonishes. 

 

Carefully she guides it down to where she wants it. Insider her. A part of him is inside her! It doesn’t matter how many times they do this, it’s still world-shaking. A loud keening rips the air. It’s him. It has to be. A Vala like Aulë could never make such a noise. To stocky and brawn. Nienna encourages the tentacle to thrust inside her, tapping it to get it moving. He still expects her to break his black heart, to tell him to stop, to run away from him. She doesn’t. Gracefully she sprawls against the first two tentacles, legs open wider. Moans. Happy moans. Content moans. Not the anguished moans that the mortals know her for. He squirms. He needs… he needs something but he doesn’t know how to ask for it. Even though the words are there. He shouldn’t want it. She’s changing him. From black to dark, dark grey.

 

“My mouth feels empty,” Nienna sighs. It’s a sad sound and Melkor hates it. A playful glint is in her dark eyes.

 

“Might I have something to fill it?”

 

A fourth tentacle stretches out. It hurts. Like reaching for something too far away. It’s small, barely two fingers thick but Nienna lights up so beautifully that he doesn’t mind the pain. Doesn’t think about how at the beginning he could summon ten easily. Nienna sucks on it like a piece of candy, one hand holding it and the other strokes it like a cat. The petting and sucking are in time with the rocking of the one inside her.

 

It’s exactly what he wanted. What he needed. To be held. A pop echoes around the antechamber as she pulled her mouth off his tentacle.

 

“You may come now.”

 

His vision whites out. It feels so good. He’s warm to the core. Content. She’s still moving. Panting. Moaning as she uses both hands to hold the tiniest one. Too much. Oh. Oh. Hard again he lies down the best he can and listens to the sounds of the room. Of Nienna pleasuring herself. Of Yavanna pleasuring her husband with vines of all things. It’s an oddly pleasant sound. Grass slapping against skin. Aulë is letting out groans that could easily be mistaken for bellows. It explains the rumors that were whispered in the halls by Maia.

 

“Shadow?”

 

“I am here my love,” his voice is strained. The need in it strong. He hasn’t left her yet to that place that leaves him vulnerable and sad because Nienna isn’t holding him. Love. An odd word he thinks, the word almost ash in his mouth. Could he love? He thinks he does. He means it. As much as he can. Nienna shudders. Tightens around him. Climaxes in delightful ways.

 

“Sorrow?”

 

“If you need to, you may.”

 

And he does, with a loud cry that mingles with Aulë’s cry. Yavanna laughs.

 

“We must do this again!” She exclaims.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
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